


Touch of the Mind

by HanaSheralHaminail, ladymars



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: (but very loosely), 5+1 Things, M/M, Mind Meld, Oblivious Spock (Star Trek), Pining James T. Kirk, Vulcan Language, Vulcan Mind Melds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-05-13 22:07:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19260091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HanaSheralHaminail/pseuds/HanaSheralHaminail, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladymars/pseuds/ladymars
Summary: Despite being a telepath, Spock can't read the open book that is Jim.





	Touch of the Mind

**Author's Note:**

> For the [Star Trek Reverse Big Bang 2019](https://startrekreversebang.tumblr.com/). All this lovely art was by [HanaSheralHaminail](https://hanasheralhaminail.tumblr.com/). I am still reeling from how good this art is.

His straight brows knitted together in concentration. He was still small enough to kneel on his mother’s lap, her arms steady around him as he tipped forward precariously with his reach, but he was starting to come to an age when a Vulcan should start to develop their telepathic abilities. His small hand was pressed against her face, fingers straining to reach the correct points to perform a mind meld, but nothing was happening. Nothing at all. This was his own mother, the most open and expressive person he knew, and he couldn’t even sense the presence of her mind.

Finally, Spock huffed out a breath and dropped his hand and his head in defeat. “Mother, I must confront the fact that my half-human nature prevents me from mind melding and cease attempts to go against my nature,” he said, his voice even as if he wasn’t feeling anything about the fact that he was unable to do such a fundamental Vulcan gesture.

The smile she gave him was a combination of the fond twinkle she got in her eye when he did or said something that seemed beyond his small frame and the sadness of her son’s unique existence, caught between two worlds. “Maybe you’re, well, thinking about it too much,” she offered, a finger tipping Spock’s chin up so their eyes would meet. “Breathe. You’re tense, darling. You’re fighting against the mind meld. It’s a two-way connection, two minds becoming one. You need to open your mind as well.”

Spock stared at his mother for a moment. He knew that, logically, but the reality of it…

Amanda could sense her son’s hesitation and said “What if you had a chant to focus on and relax enough to open up. Say it with me. My mind to your mind, my thoughts to your thoughts…”

The young Vulcan huffed out a breath, puffed up his cheeks in concentration, and pressed his fingers against her face once more, softly chanting the mantra with his mother.

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/182054512@N05/48083496036/in/dateposted-public/)

——

Spock’s grip on his Vulcan nature was steadfast yet tenuous, like gripping the edge of a cliff by his fingertips. Raised Vulcan and yet never enough. Too human, yet he did not understand their references. Despite his people’s innate ability to read minds, he often found himself woefully misunderstanding or completely missing other’s intentions, as if he had never fully mastered the art of mind reading as he feared when he was a child.

Such as when the Captain insisting on trying Vulcan cuisine.

“While Vulcan food is technically edible to human, I am sure you will not find our food appetizing,” Spock told him as the other eyed his breakfast.

Jim snorted and rested his chin on his hand as he looked up at him from across the narrow mess hall table. “Y’know, you saying things like that just makes me want to try it out more.”

Jim was stubborn, so Spock relented easily and brought over a bowl of plomeek soup for him. His expression did not change as Jim experienced a whole range of emotions as he ate a spoonful of the soup.

“That tasted like hot, sticky seaweed juice,” Jim muttered as he poked at the bowl of green liquid with his spoon.

“I warned you that Vulcan food would not be appetizing to you,” Spock said as Jim took another spoonful despite the past and now present disgust in his face.

“It’s not that bad,” Jim insisted, though his strained demeanor said otherwise. Why the Captain was putting himself through this was beyond Spock’s scope of knowledge. He usually ate breakfast by himself in his ready room, stopping by the mess hall early and briefly to avoid the crowd and have a moment to himself before arriving at the bridge. The change in schedule did not make sense, but many things about the Captain did not make sense, thus Spock attributed Jim’s newfound curiosity for Vulcan cuisine to that.

Jim added several shakes of the saltshaker to his soup before taking the next bite, seeming more at ease this time. “We should eat breakfast together more often. Maybe you can try out Earth breakfast food. Try out scrambled eggs and bacon.”

“I would find that agreeable,” Spock said. It would be good to debrief before they arrived at the bridge, strategically sound. “But I do not eat meat.”  
Jim grinned at the simple answer and nudged Spock’s shoe with his foot. “Tofu bacon then.”

——

When Spock heard broken Vulcan coming from one of the conference rooms, there were several other logical conclusions that came to mind before finding Jim and Nyota pouring over Vulcan school texts.

“Look, Uhura, there’s no way I can twist my tongue around enough to say that. I don’t think humans are capable of doing it,” Jim insisted, pouting when Uhura perfectly pronounced the syllable. It took them a moment to notice Spock stepping into the room. Uhura looked surprised; Jim looked sheepish.

“Hey there, Mr. Spock,” the Captain greeted cheerfully once he recovered from appearing as if he had been caught doing something he shouldn’t. Spock stepped closer to look over the texts on the table.

“These texts are for school children,” Spock pointed out, looking at Uhura. They looked way below her skill level and not related at all to Starfleet or any mission he knew of.

“They’re not for me, obviously,” Uhura said with an eye roll.

Jim interjected, “I’m learning Vulcan.”

Spock raised an eyebrow at him. “We have an excellent Head of Communications.” He gestured a hand towards Uhura, who snorted at the flattery.

“I’m learning it for myself,” Jim said, then pausing before adding with a half-smile, “So I can understand you better.”

That reason seemed ridiculous. While they often did not see eye to eye when it came to decisions taken during missions, they could communicate with great clarity and understanding. It was oftentimes as if Jim could read his mind, anticipating what he would decide on and how to counter it before he could voice his objections. “It is not necessary to learn my language, as I am as fluent as you are in Standard, as are most Vulcan,” Spock pointed out.

Uhura sighed heavily and shook her head, but the Captain did not seem swayed by his logic. “But I want to,” he insisted.

Spock continued to stare at him, lips pressed in a thin line. It seemed that Jim would not see sound logic, unsurprisingly. “In that case, I wish you luck in your studies. I’m sure Lieutenant Uhura is a fine teacher.”

“You can’t just saddle me with Vulcan lessons when he wants to learn it for you,” Uhura said, voice a touch high with desperation and already looking tired of the whole endeavor. Given by the basic vowel Jim was stumbling over, this must be an early lesson.

Jim pouted, one pink lip pushing up from underneath. “You can’t leave me to fend for myself here, Spock.”

Spock took a moment to consider. While Uhura was incredibly talented with languages, nothing could compare with having lessons from a native speaker that was naturally anatomically capable of pronouncing all the phonemes. Jim was an intelligent man. Surely he would pick up on the language with ease. Also, he had many intellectual pursuits, so perhaps once he learned a few phases, his fixation would cease. Jim did tend to jump from interest to interest to fill his time outside of the bridge for when he became too restless. He had taken to practice Shakespearean plays once, using Spock as his silent opposite.

“Very well,” Spock finally said, folding his hands behind his back once he was satisfied with his conclusion. “I will also assist you with your lessons.”  
Jim broke into a grin that instantly told Spock that he had made the wise choice.

——

Somehow, some way, the Captain had managed to procure a homemade cake.

The food processor could make desserts, of course, but Jim made a point so saying that no, this was homemade cake. “The pan was easy to find,” Jim explained, a square of the chocolate cake sitting between them on the mess hall table. It appeared that the cake would be his breakfast. Spock supposed he deserved a break after so much plomeek soup in a row. He had to grant him, he was thorough and consistent. “Butter, sugar, milk, all easy to find. I had to get creative with the eggs and flour, though, but the cake turned out great anyway. But the chocolate, oh boy… I had to reduce so many cups of hot cocoa to get the chocolate concentrated enough. Scotty helped build something up to bake it. And then, ta-da!” He gestured at the cake with a flourish, fork pinned between his index and middle fingers.

Spock nodded appreciatively. “It seems that you have a career in baking once you retire from active duty,” he commented. His tone was bone dry, but anyone that knew him enough could tell that he was teasing.

Jim was someone that knew him well, so he gave him a half smile. “Only if you come with me to act as my taste tester.”

Spock would have pointed out that he might not be a suitable taste tester for human food, and also that it was too early in the shift to be ingesting intoxicating substances (Jim made a point to say that he made the cake chocolate after he found out that Vulcans can get inebriated with chocolate), but the other had already lifted up a forkful of cake. “Open wide!”

Spock felt silly, but he couldn’t deny that he was quite amused. He leaned in and opened his mouth as Jim made chugging train noises. Just before the fork could touch his lips, Jim pulled it away. Spock was surprised by the strong disappointment he felt at not being able to taste the cake.

“Wait, wait, wait, we’re on a starship,” Jim said, still holding up the cake. Spock couldn’t take his eyes off of it. Well, he couldn’t decide whether he should be looking at the cake or Jim with his ruffled, recently awake look. Spock found it appealing. “We need to make starship noises.”

Spock furrowed his brow. “There is no air in space, thus there would be no air molecules for the sound to travel through. Therefore, a starship would not make noises like a chugging train or a propeller plane.”

Jim sighed, put upon but amused, and tried again. “Okay, assume there is air in space. How would a starship sound like then? Assume there’s no air resistance before you go for that route.”

Spock supposed he should humor him. It seemed to make the Captain happy to play along. “I suppose the sound a starship would make, while in warp, would be close to a whirring hum. Another viable option would be to imitate the sound found in the engine room.”

“Huh.” Jim paused to consider all that. Then he floated the fork over to Spock again, this time humming like Spock had instructed him to. The Vulcan caught the bite of cake with his mouth. Oh. The rich flavors danced over his tongue. It was rich and sweet, sticky as he worked through the bite in his mouth. He tasted some of the intoxicating elements at the back of his tongue. A taste wouldn’t inebriate him, but he did enjoy the tease.

“It’s good,” he said once he swallowed.

Jim snorted but kept an amused smile on. “I’m taking that as a compliment.”

“It is genuinely good,” he assured. For some reason, he greatly desired Jim would understand that he did appreciate his work. “I wish I could have more without becoming intoxicated.”

Jim’s eyes crinkled. “Thanks, Spock.” With that, he took a big bite of his own. Some brown crumbs stuck to his pink lips. Spock felt an urge to reach over and brush them aside. Perhaps with his tongue.

He brushed that mental comment aside. These kinds of thoughts had been protruding his mind recently. Perhaps he had been spending too much time with the Captain outside of a professional matter, between their breakfasts and the language lessons. Spock needed more data to determine whether or not these impulse thoughts were detrimental. Jim did not seem to notice or mind. He continued to carry on with the same energy. They tried each other’s breakfasts, and Jim was quickly becoming conversational in Vulcan with no sign of getting bored or frustrated. His accent was weak, but Spock, for some illogical reason as it did hinder communication, found it endearing.

Jim brought him out of his thoughts by dangling another forkful of cake in front of his face as if to tempt him. “You sure you don’t want another piece?”

Spock shook his head. “I must politely decline in order to prevent becoming uninhibited while on duty.”

“You’re no fun,” Jim scoffed, but then nudged his foot against Spock’s as if reassuring him that he was joking. This time, Spock bumped his foot against Jim’s shoe in return. The twinkle in Jim’s made his stomach flutter as if he had enjoyed too much chocolate cake.

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/182054512@N05/48083536158/in/dateposted-public/)

——

Spock exhaled and told Jim that they could take a few minutes before continuing their lesson. Throwing the flash cards onto the table, Jim slid down his chair as if melting and threw a foot up to rest on Spock’s knee. The gesture would have made any Vulcan recoil from the disrespect, but Spock had to fight the urge to squeeze the socked foot between his hands and massage his arch. As it were, he elected to ignore the fact that he was being used as a footstool as he organized their notes, knowing better than to think that this gesture was anything special.

Jim was an affectionate person, he knew, so Spock did not take the gesture as anything special. He’d seen him drape over Doctor McCoy’s shoulder as they talked and all the hair ruffling he’s done to Chekov. It was in his nature, so this gesture was nothing to think about. He’ll take his casual affections as they come.

Jim blew out a breath through his mouth and rubbed at his temple. No matter how much Spock pointed out that the additional mental strain was unnecessary, he continued to stubbornly insist that he must learn Vulcan “for you”. Spock also insisted that that was unnecessary as well, but those pleas fell on deaf ears. “You guys need to cool it with the apostrophes and when to use them,” he muttered.

“It is what it is,” Spock mused. Finally, the temptation grew too great and he reached a hand down to brush a finger against the side of Jim’s foot.

Jim yelped and flailed in surprise, almost breaking his knee on the underside of the table. That display almost made Spock’s lips turn up. “What the hell!” he exclaimed, staring at Spock as if he had grown a second head. “Don’t do that! I’m ticklish!” He would look more offended if it wasn’t obvious that he was fighting a smile.

“It was an accident,” Spock said, though his tone said it definitely was not an accident.

“I was comfortable too…” Jim sat up, rubbing his hurt knee.

“You are welcomed to rest your foot on me again.”

Jim eyed Spock. “You promise you won’t try to tickle me again?”

Spock nodded once. “You have my word.”

Jim narrowed his eyes, still suspicious, but did then once again rested his foot on Spock’s knee. They were silent for a moment, but the air did not seem thick with awkwardness. They were simply lost in their own thoughts. “So, this mind melding thing,” Jim said once he settled in. “I’ve been thinking about it recently. Haven’t given it much though since everything with Salek. Is there anything about it I can read about?”

“None that would be accessible to you,” Spock answered. Vulcan customs were shrouded in ancient secrecy. No way a human, even one as well respected as the Captain, would be able to easily access it.

Jim pursed his lips. “Well, can you talk about it then?”

Spock clasped his hands together over the table. “I suppose I can.”

Jim got that glint in his eye that never meant anything good. “Okay, good! Salek just kind of did it and didn’t really explain himself. So, what is it actually?”

“The mind meld?”

“Yeah.”

Spock raised his eyebrows momentarily at the abstract question. “It is a telepathic link between individuals in order to exchange thoughts.”  
Jim pursed his lips like he wasn’t satisfied. “That’s the textbook definition. Tell how it really is. How does it feel like?”

The question was still incredibly abstract, but Spock still attempted to tackle it. “Well, it feels as if both individuals are sharing one mind. Memories and thoughts become one. The process is easier the recipient is someone the person that is conduction the mind-melding is very familiar with, as they would likely share many memories together.”

Jim let out a “huh” as he thought about what Spock had answered. The edge of his lip crept up in a half smile. “So, we would have a pretty easy mind meld, right?”

Spock’s words caught in his throat. That implication sounded so… intimate. Surely the Captain had not intended for it to sound that way, as much as Spock felt warm at the thought that he had. He had been spending too much time with him, Spock thought. He was starting to perceive affection and attraction when it obviously couldn’t be there.

“I suppose so,” he finally answered after he swallowed his spit, voice even. “I would likely also have an easy connection with Doctor McCoy.”

Jim gave Spock a look he couldn’t quite identify. He looked unamused, but Spock knew he and the doctor were very close, so he surely must not dislike the thought that Spock could mind meld with him easily. “But we would be better, right?” Jim’s voice sounded so insistent like he needed this small perceived win.

Spock’s fingers fidgeted against each other, unsure of how to read all of this. “We do spend a great amount of time together, both on and off the bridge, so I suppose that would be a correct assumption.”

Jim smiled a triumphant smile. “Hell yeah, it’s the right assumption. We should totally try it.”

Spock frowned. “Try to mind meld?”

“Yeah!”

And Spock’s stomach tightened. He couldn’t allow that. What would he think if he found those little thoughts, those inklings that Spock not only enjoyed spending time with him but felt some sort of… fondness? Yes, a fondness. He supposed he could call this feeling a fondness. But they were Captain and First Officer. Jim could not have these same feelings for him. Perhaps Jim would believe that his recent agreeability and willingness to teach him Vulcan and spend breakfasts together was a ploy to spend time with him in some pseudo-romantic way. Which, if he was truly honest with himself, was not entirely a lie. Spending time with Jim made him warm in a way he didn’t understand.

“I am not very adept at it,” Spock finally granted as an excuse not to do it. “I can do it, obviously, but I must concentrate to be able to do it when it comes much more innately to other Vulcans.” Jim must have certainly seen him do it. He had mentioned to him that he had done it with Admiral Pike. He brushed the thought out of his mind before the memory of it made his head ache. Even just thinking about it strained his mind.  
Jim tilted his head to the side. “But Salek mind-melded with me just fine.”

“We are not the same person.” It was too early in the day to get into the philosophical implications of that. “Perhaps he still retained some of my strategies to ease the mind meld but in more subtle ways. I have not yet reached that level, and so would elect to not conduct mind melds unless entirely necessary.”

“Oh.” Jim’s smile could be cataloged as sad, but then it quickly turned back into one of his natural smirks. Spock’s heart tightened at having to disappoint him with something he could accommodate. The Captain shook his head and said, “I think you’re full of shit. We can so do it. With you, I’m an open book. You could mind meld with me. Maybe we’d see each other eye to eye then.”

“Even so, I have expressed my reservations,” Spock said, with a tone of finality.

They stared at each other, at an in passé. There was a moment of silence before Jim said, as he took the notes again, “Anyway, this conversation is weird. Let’s go over food stuff again.”

Spock pursed his lips, wanting to say more, but complied.  

——

For the Captain’s credit, he did not bring up mind melding again since that day. Spock was thankful if surprised. They continued on, this pestering fondness still sticking in Spock’s heart.

Spock thought it illogical to be chosen as the Captain’s companion to the event at the museum. While Spock was highly trained in diplomatic strategy, he knew his weakness in social events of this nature. The Enterprise had successfully retrieved and delivered a priceless artifact from a ruined satellite, and the curator gleefully invited the Captain to a party in celebration. The Captain subsequently chose Spock as his companion. Or his “date”, as the Captain jokingly referred to him. The word made his stomach flutter, but he brushed it off. This had to be another one of the Captain’s quips.

Spock highlighted his shortcomings point by point, but Kirk waved him off, quoting “Captain’s orders”.

Except that they were not even wearing their uniforms. It was as if they were not on duty. Kirk, in his loose blue tunic and casual pants, turned him right around when he appeared at the teleportation room wearing his uniform. He thankfully had a robe that matched the Captain’s casual outfit, tan and simply embroidered.

The event was lowkey but bustling. People flowed between the exhibits, quietly talking amongst themselves. Spock kept close to Jim so he wouldn’t accidentally get sucked into these conversations. He felt such a tug to link their arms together to stay close, and the mental image manifested as them brushing arms often as they flowed from article to article. Jim did not seem to mind, at least.

Jim was quite chatty for being at a museum. The simple question of what makes art become art had sent him into a tangent several minutes long. At least the painting that had started a conversation wasn’t as egregious as the blank canvases or a rock on a stand; it was a colorful landscape of a sunset from a beach off Risa.

“C’mon, I know for a fact that Vulcans have art,” Jim said at a point in his argument. “Don’t act like you don’t. Vulcans also appreciate things for being things that look nice.”

Spock kept his eyes on the painting so he wouldn’t slip up and let his lips express the emotions bubbling within him. “We do indeed use decorative symbols, yes.”

“Hell, look at Vulcan script. Now that’s art.” Spock could see from the side of his vision Jim turning towards him. “Look at you. You’re a piece of art too.”

That took Spock aback so much that he had to glance over at him. Jim then smiled at him, as brilliant as a sun. The Captain did not seem to notice that his companion was momentarily mesmerized by his smile as he patted Spock’s shoulder and said with a nod toward the end of the room, “Anyway, lets hit the bar.”

As Spock was going to follow the captain, dazed from that interaction, the hairs in the back of his neck rose up. His shoulders tensed as he turned around to face the source. He caught sighed of a green-scaled humanoid, thin antennae curling above their head and thin fins flaring out from the sides of their head, staring intently at him. Ah, an Eltar. Semi-aquatic. Physically weak but powerful telepaths. Can feed off the mental energy of other beings. Nothing that would hurt the donor. They must be having a feast with the stimulating thoughts the museum guests were pouring out but had locked on Spock for some reason.

Spock shuddered as he felt them shuffle through his mind, the intrusion shivering up his spine. The Eltar smirked slightly as they viewed his recent thoughts. Thoughts of Jim, and how he lit up a room, and how fetching he looked being so relaxed and at ease out of uniform.

Clenching his fists and gritting his teeth, Spock mentally pushed back. These thoughts were his own. He could barely admit them to himself. How dare this stranger intrude his mind, shove a claw into his intimate thoughts and rustle around there. It felt as if their touch was contaminating the memories. Spock’s eyes watered, and the edges of his vision were starting to turn dark.

The last thing he heard was Jim shouting his name.

——

Spock’s head pounded with every heartbeat as he came to, the back of his eyes burning. He was laying down, his head propped up on someone’s lap. A hand was curled up in the back of his head, scratching his scalp. That gesture soothed him some, at least. He stirred, hoping the throbbing in his head would cease.

A familiar yet different voice said to him, “ _Hey, welcome back. Don’t move. You went down pretty hard back there_.”

Spock understood the words, but it took him a moment to recognize that clipped and shushing tone. “ _Your Vulcan has greatly improved,_ ” he muttered in said language, eyes still closed. To be honest, his headache made it easier to default back to his native language, so he appreciated the ease on his mind.

“ _Told you it’d come in handy._ ” Spock could practically hear the smile in his voice. He opened his eyes, blinking against the light, and he moved to sit up, but a gentle hand on his chest settled him back to rest his head on his lap.

“ _What happened?_ ” Spock asked, trying to focus his sight on the man above him.

Jim bowed his head, his head hallowed by the light above him. Spock still had not been able to recognize where they were. It didn’t look like the ship, but the Captain did not seem too concerned, so they must be safe. “ _I, ah, I rescued you?_ ” he admitted, sheepish but with a smile threatening to peak out. “ _I might have pulled a phaser in an art museum. We’re probably banned for life._ ”

Spock exhaled. “Itaren, t’hy’la.”

Jim blinked, and Spock hoped that he hadn’t reached the chapter about Vulcan endearments yet. Finally, the Captain laughed and said, “ _That Eltar really did a number on your verbal filter, huh?_ ”

Spock’s side cramped, but it seemed that Jim was not disturbed by his slip of the tongue. “ _I apologize for the disrespect, Captain._ ”

Jim snorted, still smiling. “ _Don’t apologize, Spock. I’m happy you called me that._ ”

Spock frowned. “Do you know what that means?” That he said in Standard to be completely clear.

“Duh,” Jim scoffed. “Uhura taught me that because you literally refused to teach me. Friend, soulmate, lover…” The warmth in Jim’s tone made his head light.

Spock blinked at Jim, heat rising up his neck. “It doesn’t exactly mean all that...” he muttered. Perhaps Jim had misunderstood the meaning.

“You’re changing the subject, Spock,” Jim retorted, dry but amused. Spock was taken aback by Jim catching his intentions so easily. “I know what you meant, t’hy’la.”

“I–” Spock was speechless. What did this mean?

“You know that’s how I feel about you. Like, we are literally in the middle of a date.” He paused and looked away for a moment, looking more unsure than Spock had ever seen him. “Unless, you know… You’re pretty hard to read yourself. I thought you felt the same way but, God, reading Vulcans is just as hard as reading Vulcan script, and–”

“You…” Jim stopped his babbling to let Spock speak. “You are romantically interested in me?”

Jim stared at Spock, then threw his head back and laughed out loud. “Oh, boy… for a telepath, you sure are bad at reading people.”

“My telepathy is reliant on touch, and–”

“Shut up, Spock.” Jim’s smile grew into a grin, fond. Now Spock realized what he had to do.

“We must mind meld.” His voice sounded surer than how he felt, but he made himself find the courage to continue. “It would be easier to understand each other if we connected our minds, one and together…”

Jim now frowned. “Are you sure? It’s not like it’s an emergency.”

“Very sure,” Spock reassured. “It would be good for us to be on the same page. I know you’ve wanted this.”

Jim still did not look convinced, but he said, “Can you sit up?”

Spock was somewhat unsteady, but he was able to sit up with Jim’s help. The Captain kept an arm around him, and Spock was now half sitting on his lap from how close they were. Taking a deep breath, he brought his hand up and pressed his fingers against Jim’s face. My mind to your mind, my thoughts to your thoughts…

It clicked easily. So easily that Spock almost broke the link as their minds became one as the rush of sensations and thoughts flooded him. There he saw it, what he had been overlooking. Jim’s eagerness to learn about him. Spend time with him. Listen to his voice and thoughts. The hope of his interest being reciprocated by the Vulcan. Seeing it through Jim’s eyes, Spock could see how he could see his interest, despite his efforts to suppress it. He was much less subtle than he realized. No wonder he had correctly assumed that his feelings were reciprocated.

Jim was reciprocating as easily. Spock could just hear his chant echoed back at him by the other’s voice, as clear as a bell. It was as if the black silk curtain that had been lifted from his eyes and revealed a vibrant world of color.

The link was broken when Jim brushed his hand aside and breathlessly caught Spock’s mouth with his lips. He pulled away abruptly, their eyes meeting, and chuckled softly. “Sorry. Couldn’t help myself.”

Spock licked his tingling lips. “Why did you stop?” That made Jim grin and dip in for another kiss, slow and gentle this time. Spock was the one that pulled away after a few moments to point out, “We should return to the ship.”

Jim pouted in a way that made Spock steal one more kiss but did call up Scotty to give them a beam up. “We should do that again soon,” he said as he pocketed the communicator and gave Spock a hand up to stand before standing up himself. “The mind melding, I mean. Once your head’s recovered.”

“We shall. I feel much better already.” The headache had disappeared after the mind meld.

Jim quirked an eyebrow before breaking out into a grin and wrapping his arms around the other’s neck. Spock could practically hear him think that he didn’t believe that he felt better at all and that he would insist on taking care of him, along with that warm fondness he had been overlooking all along.

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/182054512@N05/48083598277/in/dateposted-public/)

**Author's Note:**

> Even more art [here](https://hanasheralhaminail.tumblr.com/)~


End file.
